


Post-it

by myownlilbubble



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Crimes & Criminals, F/M, I am just using these characters for this fic, Mystery, OOC, Romance, Slow Burn, non canon compliance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-12-07 22:13:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20983223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myownlilbubble/pseuds/myownlilbubble
Summary: The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. ~ Edmund Burkeon





	1. Jon I

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning:~
> 
> A blanket trigger warning for ALL sorts of issues. It's wide ranging to be quite honest. I am pushing the boundaries of my own comfort zone. What would normally be taboo topics for me, I aim to slowly delve into those uncomfortable topics. I just hope I can do them justice. Let me reiterate that I do not wish to belittle nor make downplay the gravity of those topics. I don't ever want to hurt anyone in the course of my writing. I probably won't back down but I would welcome open discussions. Even if it's a channel to direct your outrage. I get it. I really do.
> 
> Disclaimer:~
> 
> I am taking massive creative liberty on the characterizations of all these GOT or ASOIAF characters, cultures, religious practices, history and locations all over Westeros. The story is set in modern times. What belongs to GRRM belongs to him. The rest are my own. 
> 
> Apologies:~
> 
> Tags will be updated when I deemed the need. Updates would be sporadic. Procrastination is a crippling weakness. I am unsure of how to write a summary without giving away spoilers. My apologies. I never done this before in other sites. Allow me time to figure things out as I go along. Grammatical errors would be constantly minimised. I never had any beta readers. So beta readers to just correct my grammars or sentence structure felt a little intrusive. It's on me. No one else. Fanfiction writing had always been a safe space for me. I am still trying to navigate my way around AO3. So a newbie in the house.
> 
> Confession:~
> 
> I have never read a single book from GRRM. I actually ignore GOT all those past 8 years and only binged watched S1-S7 in a weird order before the start of S8 to see what the hell everyone on reddit was bitching and whining about. Started with S7>S6>S1>S2>S3>S4>S5. Yes. In that order. I fell in love with Jon Snow and Sansa Stark as characters and their journey. What made me a JonSa fan however was the chemistry between Kit and Sophie in S7. I actually learnt more about other interesting ASOIAF characters or little golden nuggets from AO3 JonSa/StanSa/SanSan/RobbSa fics. Those fics that I read, tend to keep similar details from the books and eventually I got a gist of it. I probably will read the books in the future when the next book comes out next year. Accordingly to GRRM anyway....I cannot stand the pain of waiting. 
> 
> I am allowing anon comments without moderation. Let see if my story holds up in AO3. Would be interesting and I am curious. Though I do not take abusive comments or personal attacks. 
> 
> You bite. I strike back.
> 
> Sincerely

**Present**

_Kringggg_!

The sound of the bell chimed lightly as the door to the cafe opened ajar. 

A pair of boots covered in dust stepped across the threshold of the door frame. 

Paused to scan the interior before setting sight on a little square table in the middle of the cafe.

Red tablecloth topped with an immaculately starched white linen.

Two rattan chairs on opposite ends.

Seated and awaiting an arrival.

The quiet of the usually bustling cafe was..._unusual_.

The start of the humming of the air-conditioning unit overheard broke the quiet.

Someone lowered the thermostat. 

Not that the weather warranted such act.

A couple was quietly reading by the bay window seats, right by the entrance.

No mugs in sight.

An older man with salt and pepper hair was seated alone near the back towards the back exit.

No mug in sight.

A barista was busying incessantly wiping the coffee bar of a non-existent spill.

A white earbud.

A presence seated opposite, demanding attention.

Finally.

Staring at a mask.

A smile was given.

_Hello Jon. Let's talk._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates:~
> 
> 17/10/2019 : Timeline of the chapters for now would be known as 'Present' or 'Past' as well as according to the respective POVs. I found it to be less messy since I am not providing a specific timeline as yet as well as easier to get into the correct headspace during writing. Ages of different characters will be placed under the end notes of any chapter that they first appeared in.
> 
> 23/10/2019 : I renamed the title of Chapter 1-3 according to different POVs. I hated being stuck on such minor chore such as giving each chapter an appropriate title.


	2. Jon II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Things are not always what they seem; the first appearance deceives many; the intelligence of a few perceives what has been carefully hidden.” ~ Phaedrus

**Present**

Jon took a deep breath before he could answer the new arrival. His clenched jaw was starting to hurt. His hands were kept out of sight below the table.

Sansa.

She looked good. Her red hair shone. Her shoulder squared with confidence. She was clad in a fitted jean in a dark wash, paired with a grey knitted long-sleeved sweater. Probably completed the casual look with a white pair of ballerina flats.

"I am surprised that you chose this place. Why is that?" She said in askance.

I frowned at her peculiar question. _Me_? Something was amiss. 

"I am fine Sansa. Thanks for asking. You looked great too. Hows the family? Hopefully they are all doing fine too." I replied.

A frown started to don on that pretty face of hers before she quickly extinguished it back to her default mask. I _hated_ that mask.

What else am I missing? What is wrong with this picture right here. Right now.

"Cut the crap Jon! Where is Rickon? Why meet at this cafe? Why did you take Rickon? Where the hell is my brother? "

Now a frown threatened to grace my forehead. Me? What kind of sick game is she playing at now?

"Me? I don't know what kind of game you get off on Sansa! I assured you that I would not partake in any part of it. Now YOU tell me where the hell is Rickon!" 

She made a move to retrieve something out of her back pocket of her very tight jean and unfolded a tattered but non-descript post-it note on the table in front of us. 

_Wolf Fang Cafe. _

_10am. _

_Come alone if you want Rickon._

I glanced up and saw her eyes starting to water. I hardened my resolve. Not today. Not again. No more Sansa. Not after everything. 

"You are such a sick bastard Jon. Don't twist this on me. I trusted you and you spit it back to my face!"

I am starting to feel a rise of rage within. Salt and pepper guy glanced over for a second. I caught his eyes. He got the decency to look guilty for being caught eavesdropping before he returned to whatever he was doing prior. Not much.

"I don't understand this manic acid trip you are on Sansa. I am just here to get Rickon back. No one else has to get hurt Sansa. Please let him go." I tried pleading instead. Hoping to play the nostalgia card. It was too soon. But I was at my wit's end. It hurts to look at her. It hurts to be around her. It hurts to hear her voice. It hurts.

Shaking her head. She smiled that sad smile of hers. "Tell me Jon. Why do you have a gun pointed at me under the table?"

All at once...several voices blended together, drowning my confused thought.

_Put your hands up!_

_Let me see your hands!_

_Don't move!_

_Miss Sansa, step over here quick!_

Sweat beads started to form down my back. My hands were itching to react. I felt a cold tingling sensation down my spine. It's now or never. I had to make a split second decision. One of which I could end up being shot. Multiple times. Death by cop.

_Fuck_ _this_!

I made a quick grab across at Sansa's right wrist so that she remained seated. The look of shock on her face was hilarious. I almost felt guilty for making her feel....._unsafe_. It was never my intention. Ever. To think she would feel _unsafe_.....from me. How fucking ironic!

"Don't fucking move Sansa!" I ordered. I can see the plain clothes moving in. Closing in the dragnet. A step at a time. Who was the I/C? The salt and pepper guy? Or was it one of the couple by the entrance? No! It must be the idiot with the very exposed earbud. It was always the idiot in management.

"Stand down! Or I will break her arm! You know I could!" I shouted at them to a halt. I didn't dare to take a look at Sansa's face. I was a god damn motherfucking asshole for even threatening her like that. She didn't deserved that. In spite of everything that transpired this far.

I turned to look at the salt and pepper guy. Motioned him over with a tilt of my chin. He understood and moved an inch. Gun still pointed at my forehead. A kill shot. Oh fucking great!

"Lower your weapons guys! Sansa is in the kill zone! No sudden movements!" I commanded out loud before I turned back to glare at the barista over my right shoulder. "Don't try to be a hero! I can see you earbud you dumbass!"

His wide eyes looked ridiculous as he gave a sheepishly small smile. The fucker could smile in this situation? What an idiot!

"You there! Salt and pepper! Don't tempt me! I can hurt Sansa before you could even reach for your spare service revolver at your back! So don't!" I glared at him and he returned a nod in understanding. A few seconds of waiting felt like hours. He nod at his colleagues by the bay window. I could see their hesitation at salt and pepper's silent command. To lower their weapon. In the end, the lady cop lowered her first before her male colleague lowered his as well. Four revolvers. Four cops. One trigger happy idiot looking to make a quick collar. Just fucking great!

"Salt and pepper! Come over. Slowly. Don't make me do something stupid alright!" I warned him again. He merely nod slowly before he inched forward towards me and Sansa. 

"That's far enough!" He stopped. Revolver still at hand. Safety off. Ready to fire. Wonder what was his kill ratio? Oh fucking great! I am going nut! 

"Bend down!" I instructed him once I got out of my daze. He looked confused. No. Disturbed even. Why was that? What did he think I meant? Oh fuck!

"Fuck! Look under the table! See if there is a fucking gun underneath!" I clarified. A slight gasp gotten my attention. That idiot had moved closer! Damn him! I hated myself for what I had to do next.

Ouch JON!! You are hurting me!" Sansa cried in pain when I squeezed and twist her arm. Just enough to apply pressure. Not enough to break her arm. Fuck! I fucking hate myself!

"Don't fucking move you stupid fucker!" I glared at the idiot by the coffee bar. He raised both his arms in surrender. I could almost see the rest of the cops rolled their eyes at their incompetent team leader. I turned my attention back to salt and pepper.

"Bend over and look. Don't kneel! Don't fucking get on your knees! Don't reach for anything! Just look alright! Stay cool! And I will be cool! Everybody stay fucking cool!" I imploded with much anxiety.

Salt and pepper raised his revolver in mock surrender and slowly move to put it back into his shoulder holster, hidden under his jacket. He then raised his arms to show his now empty hands. He didn't move. He waited. He was waiting for me to clear him before his next move. I like this guy. Too bad we met under such dire circumstances. 

"You are good to go! Slowly! No funny business!" I said loudly. He moved to bend at his hip and look under the table between Sansa and me. He looked up at me and raised his eyebrow in askance. 

"Go ahead and lift the tablecloth! Slowly! Left hand only! Right hand remained raised in the air where I can see them!" I instructed him. He nodded in understanding before he proceed with caution. He gave a small gasp before he stood back up with quickness that I was not too happy about. Still, I remained cool. No point in showing that his sudden movement had unnerved me.

"There is a gun underneath, strapped to the underside of the table" He said before he frowned. Why was he frowning? There must be more to this. It's too simple.

"What else? What else did you find underneath?" I asked. He frowned deeper before he answered. 

"A post-it note. Taped to the gun." He replied. I motioned at him with my chin to move backward. He compiled with my request.

"I am reaching underneath for that note and gun! Don't anybody move an inch!" I shouted. 

"Can't let you do that Jon!" Salt and pepper replied. I understood his reason. I really do. But there was no other way. There is too much missing pieces of the puzzles and it is driving me crazy!

"Well you will help me retrieve then! And no funny business! Left hand only! Right hand again remained raised in the air!" I implored. Salt and pepper started to move forward, hands still raised in the air. He bend over slowly and slowly reached underneath the table. He moved ever so slowly. Just as his left hand was about to lift the tablecloth. He glanced over his shoulder and took a hard good look at me. 

"My name is Stannis. Stannis Baratheon. I have a daughter who depend on me. I am all that she got. Her name is Shireen. She is only 7 years old." he suddenly informed me. 

I knew why he told me those information. He was worried that I might blow his head off. He was trying to humanise himself to me. To tap into any humanity or conscience that I may have had hidden within. Smart move. I like this guy. I nodded in acknowledgement. He continued his reach. 

A tearing sound was heard. He got the gun. A scrunching sound was heard. He got the post-it note. He looked over his shoulder at me again. He looked almost apologetic. Why was that? Then I heard it. The distinct sound of bullets dropping to the wooden flooring. I frowned to show my displeasure. He fucking _removed_ the bullets. With one hand. Well no big loss. At least he won't use that gun to shoot me point blank. He slowly moved to straighten himself and slowly placed the gun on the table together with the post-it note. He had a quick glance at the note before he moved backward, away from Sansa and me.

I took a peek at the post-it note. 

Sorry!

It wasn't Jon.

XoXo Sansa

I looked over at Sansa who immediately turned ghastly pale upon reading the said post-it note. She shooked her head.

"I didn't wrote that! This...This wasn't me! I don't know anything about this! The gun! Or anything about this whole meeting!" Sansa blabbered quickly. The gears in my head started turning again. My gut tells me that we both got played. 

"Who told you to come here Sansa!" I asked her quickly before she went into a panic mode. 

"You! You Jon! You told me to come here!" She explained. She unfolded the post-it note from earlier.

_Wolf Fang Cafe. _

_10am. _

_Come alone if you want Rickon._

_~~~~~_

_XoXo Jon_

I looked at the note and back at Sansa. The pieces were starting to fall into place.

"I didn't wrote that Sansa! XoXo!? What the fuck! Does that sounds like me?" I explained in exasperation. I looked over at salt and pepper. I guess I have to do this. It's the only way. I just hope I don't regret this.

"Stannis! I can help! Someone is trying to frame both me and Sansa! I would never hurt Rickon! I will release Sansa now and surrender. Do I have your words that the idiotic glory hunter back there won't shoot me in the back for a news headline?" I pointed to the back with my thumb. Salt and pepper looked over at his idiotic supervisor and glared at him to stand down. From my peripheral view, the idiot was reluctant to lower his weapon.

"Stand down Harry!" Stannis commanded. I like this guy. Harry. Not so much. In the end, the idiot lowered his weapon.

"Jaime, cuff him. Brienne stand down." Stannis instructed his colleagues. Jon looked at Sansa who now had tears tracks across her cheeks. She probably realised the gravity of the situation. I wished that I could hold her. Alas, I slowly released her arm and got ready for the assault by Officer Jaime. He pounced on me, pushing me down on the table. Cuffed both my hands in a split second. Sansa had jumped away from me in shock. She looked so disappointed at me. I hated that look. Don't look at me like that Sansa. _Please_ _don't_.

Officer Jaime lifted me up and started dragging me to the squad car awaiting outside. I started to panic. I had to know! It doesn't make sense! Sansa!

"Wait! Sansa! Sansa! How did you know about the gun?" I shouted at the top of my lungs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages @ Present
> 
> Jon ~ 27  
Sansa ~ 24  
Stannis ~ 39  
Brienne ~ 35  
Jaime ~ 37  
Harry the idiot ~ 25


	3. Sansa I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Proust effect refers to the vivid reliving of events from the past through sensory stimuli.  
~ Extracted from The Proust Effect: The Senses as Doorways to Lost Memories by Cretien van Campen

** Past**

I pulled up at the side of the road in front of the preschool main gate and turned towards a pouty Rickon. He was still mad at me for using my saliva to remove a smudge on his nose earlier at a traffic light stop. Well, he should have cleaned up better earlier in the morning if he didn't want to be subjected to my saliva so early in the morning. I released my seatbelt before I stepped out of the black SUV to cross over to the passenger side. I opened the door and quickly released him from the child seat. A quick glance to my left told me he was still trying his best to hold that pout. 

Well, two can play that game. I will not succumb. I grabbed onto his little hand in a firm grip while I looked over my reflection in the side mirror. It was _Wednesday_. Mr Renly would be on gate duty. Straightening myself while I pulled along a very reluctant, pouty toddler. I looked up and was greeted with a smile by very-much-single-and-available Mr Renly. 

I did my research. The Reach was a mid-sized city but with the advent of social media and little harmless reverse social engineering aka cyberstalking, you can find just about anything. It's not like I would dox the man. Nope. I am keeping those golden nuggets of information for my own personal use. I meant..._research_. Yes. Definitely research material. I graced a little smile on my face. Just a little to appear demure and yet still sociable enough as society dictates.

"Good morning Miss Sansa. Good morning little Rickon!" Mr Renly smiled at me before he bend down to Rickon's eye level and waving animatedly at Rickon to get his attention. Rickon did not look up. He was looking at the row of shiny buttons on his white school uniform. I tugged his hand and tilt his chin firmly to force him to look into Mr Renly's eyes. He pulled back in refusal. 

_Sighed._

It was a work-in-progress. I smiled apologetically at Mr Renly. He shooked his head, all the while smiling to brush away the unnecessary apology. He stood up and took over Rickon's hand to lead him inside to join the rest of his classmates. I was a little saddened by then. Rickon was still upset at me. He never left for school without giving me a goodbye kiss and a hug whenever I hand him over to the teacher on duty. I relented and called him out.

"Rickon!" He turned around and looked back at me. I had my arm outstretched out, ready for my much needed hug. He quickly freed himself from Mr Renly's grasp and ran back towards me. He practically jumped into my awaiting arms. My heart lightened up. _This_ was what it was all about. His hugs and kisses. 

Talking about kisses. I pulled him away a little and pointed to my right cheek and then my left cheek with my right pointy finger to make known my request. If he understood, he would gift me with a kiss on both cheeks. If I am _lucky_, I won't end up with cut on the inside of my lips. He closed his lips tightly together before he proceed to kiss me in his own special way. He practically bumped his closed lips onto both cheeks before he head butt his rock hard forehead into my lips for a kiss in return. 

Yes Rickon. I love a bruised or cut lips in the morning before work. He giggled after that before he ran back to Mr Renly who witnessed the whole scene. I waved back at Rickon and Mr Renly as I left the school compound. A quick look into my back seat to ensure no unwanted passenger, I drove off to work a couple of block away.

~~~ 

After I parked at the designated staff parking, I made way through the unlocked back entrance. I stopped by the back office to find him busy looking around the messy desk in search of something. A small portable radio hung by the window at his back. I leaned on the door frame and gave the door a soft knock to make my presence known. He looked up and gruff in return. 

"It's on your head Sandor. As always." I decided to shorten his grief. He gruffed again in place of a thanks. I turned to leave before he spoke again.

"Going to the bank in a bit. Coffee after that. The usual for you?" Sandor asked as he packed his documents for his trip to the bank. I nodded at his suggestion before I went over next door to a small alcove beside his office, where the staff locker was. I placed my stuff into my designated locker and took my _book_ to the front to start up the system. I move out of the cashier counter to flip over the closed signal after I put the book below the counter out of sight. 

The layout of the store was that there were three levels of metal shelvings along the perimeter of the interior wall, stacked with various tools and hardware needs. There was a big window to the left of the cash register, which in turn was to the right of the entrance of the store. There were two long island of shelvings in the middle of the store floor. 

There are only four staff on roster. Sandor and me are the only full timers who covers the weekdays. Podrick and Gendry are the two part-timers that cover the Saturday shift as well as all house calls together with Sandor. Sandor won't allow me to do housecalls. Both of them are attending some sort of technical college and worked at the store as part of their internship programme. Store closed on Sunday. 

Sandor was a pretty relaxed boss who appreciate hard workers and tolerate no-nonsense. Some of his requirements for employment in his store were that all staff had to have a valid driving license as well as be first aid certified and trained to use a basic firearm. He paid for additional defensive driving courses for Podrick, Gendry and me. 

Some may say that was an overkill. But trust me. They became a necessity. Since the store had opened a couple of years ago, we had three heart attacks and one attempted robbery. The defensive driving course was implemented by Sandor because he didn't trust any of us to drive the store's truck without killing anyone or ourselves. '_The name of the fucking store is plastered all over the fucking truck! Like hell I would let anyone think that I hired a bunch of dimwits to fix their pipes! You fucktards!' _

Sandor truly was a connoisseur of words.

I finally set down at the counter to sort through the ledger holding all daily house calls. There was only one house call for today. I peeled one post-it note to write the address for Sandor and the nature of the job.

On cue, Sandor walked out from the back office to take the post-it note for his house call. He took a look at it and raised his left eyebrow in askance. I shrugged my shoulder and pointed at wall behind me. _The customer is always right (even if they are wrong but we let them_ _think otherwise)_. The store motto. He may deny loving that led strip signboard, presented to him on his birthday last year by Pod and Gendry. But I knew he secretly fucking love it. That big softie.

"The customer won't be around today so you would have to let yourself in. The key would be placed under the doormat. The customer only have a set, the set you would be holding onto later. So don't lose it!" I read out the written instruction from the ledger to Sandor without looking up at him.

"Doormat eh?" Sandor shook his head in disbelief. People nowadays have such a false sense of security.

"The customer said that a list would be pasted on the front door. Just follow the instructions. Oh! Before I forget, UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES, should the person making the house call, look into the room with a _"red door"._ I read to him further. It was odd to say the least.

A ridiculous smirk now graced the right side of his unburnt face. I closed the ledger and slide it back in place below the counter. 

"Keep the back door locked at all time Sansa. I had locked it up earlier after you came in." Sandor reprimanded me. I rolled my eyes at his worry wart ways. " Keep '_stranger_' close by at all times." He continued as he knocked on the counter with his clenched right hand.

"You worry too much Sandor." I replied. He softened his worried face before he ruffled my perfectly coiffured updo as he started to leave the store.

Kling! Kling!

A wift of familiar smelling cologne hit my nasal cavity before I looked up from my book to greet the customer who just entered the store.

"Morning! Welcome to Clegane's!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sandor - 40  
Rickon - 3


	4. Sandor I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A photograph is a secret about a secret. The more it tells you the less you know.” ~ Diane Arbus

**Past**

As I rounded the side of the building towards the truck, parked behind the store, a nagging feeling started to crept up within me. I know Sansa could take care of herself. But sometimes....just sometimes.....she just..._Damnit!_ The little bird just stroked the fire in my belly and ignite my innate protective nature. _Damn you old dog! Going soft in your old age! The Hound don't "do" feelings!_ I besmirched myself. 

Unlocking the door before I sat down in the driver seat, I readjusted the seat to accommodate my damn long legs. Next time I should dock Pod's or was it Gendry's pay for always forgetting to readjust the seat back in position. Those damn twats! Or maybe I should just hire taller people. Like Sansa. Chuckling to myself at my own joke, feeling good for once. _Fucking old dog! You are growing soft you twat!_ I continued to chastise myself.

Taking another look at the post-in note for my destination, I shift into gear and sped away. 

~~~

As I pulled in front of the house, I scanned my surroundings to get my bearings. The house was the typical run of the mill two storey farm house that fit right in a cheesy murder flick. It sat in the middle of acres of open field. It had terracotta thatched roof. The paint on the exterior wall was peeling. Overgrown grass covered the front lawn. Dirty white picket fences ran along the perimeter of the front lawn, before snaking right out to the backyard. A broken stone tiled pavement cut through the overgrown front lawn, led up to the covered wraparound porch. Making of a potential treacherous walk if I wasn't fitted with a safety boot. 

As I walked through the front lawn, I took a couple of snapshots of house and its surrounding before I emailed them to Sansa. She _worries_ too. This way, she would always be aware of my current job site as well as provide proof of service rendered in the case of owner not being present. Such as this particular job. In case, she needs to direct the police where to look for my body. Murder house indeed.

As I stood in front of the non-descript oak front door, one question kept playing over and over in my head this tiresome early morning.

_Who was the current owner of this murder house?_

_Why all this secrecy?_

As I plucked the small post-it note off the front door.

**~~~**

**List on fridge.**

~~~

Great! _More_ post-its. Sansa loves those pesky things. I continued to curse internally at the inventor of post-its. Maybe I should start running a background check on all potential house calls. _Screw the customers' right to privacy! I don't intend to die while being choked to death under a leaky pipe! _

Though it sounds mighty fine and dandy in principles. Except...in reality...I would have to deal with _humans_. Like Berric Tollet. Or worse. Tormund fucking Giantsbane. _More humans_ from the Reach police department. 

Nope. No way. End story. So far, a majority of the house calls had been contained within the geriatic demographic, who uses the bed pan more than porcelain throne itself.

Looking down at my boot before I bend down to lift the _top left corner_ of the badly stained doormat. I caught a distinct metallic smell before I saw the brass key hidden underneath. I picked up the key, slot it into the rusted looking keyhole and was pleasantly surprised that it worked. _Recently greased the keyhole?_ Without much ado, I brushed aside that minute detail and let myself in. 

Took a quick glance at my analogue wrist watch as I stepped into the threshold of the house. 

9.05am. 

Plenty of _daylight_ left.

Slipping the brass key into his left back pocket while pocketing the 1st post-it in his right back pocket. A cold breeze greeted him. He could feel goosebumps raised on his arms. He noted that the air smelled musty and old. A nagging feeling slowly enveloped his very being. But he quickly pushed aside his doubts as he closed the door behind him. 

In front of him was a dark hallway. Directly to his left was the staircase leading to the second storey of the farm house. Directly to his right was a doorway with an opened pocket door that lead into what looked like the living room. All the furnitures were covered with white cloths. 

He ventured further down the hallway to the back of the house. As he slowly walked down the hallway, the sound of his footsteps echoed throughout the house. As he passed by a small desk, he noticed that it had a thick layer of undisturbed dust.

Finally, stopping in front of the back door that lead to the back yard. To his left was the dining room that could seat a dinner party of ten comfortably. Again all the furnitures were covered in white cloths. To this right was the kitchen which he proceed to enter and made his way to the refrigerator. It was hard NOT to miss the 2nd post-it stuck on the fridge.

~

** _Leaky kitchen t_ _ap_ **

_~_

Sandor slipped the _2nd post-it_ into his right back pocket and set his toolbox down as he go about looking for the source of the leak under the kitchen sink. As he started to tighten the pipes, he spotted another post-it note taped under the sink.

_~_

** _Faulty basement radiator_ **

_~_

Puzzled, he peeled off the offending _3rd post-it_ and kept it in his back pocket with the rest. He continued his work with a constant frown on his face. The nagging feeling came back but he again pushed it aside as he tightened all the rusty pipes after he taped up the leaky pipe with some plumbers tape.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Sandor gathered his tools and placed them in his toolbox before he went hunting for the basement.

***

There he stood in the middle of the basement, with only a lone lightbulb as his main source of light, staring at yet _another_ 4th post-it note taped on the _faulty_ radiator to his right, under the only window in the basement. 

~

** _Clogged shower drain_ **

_~_

Sandor sighed to himself. This is going to be a _long_ fucking day as he went about fixing the radiator.

**Author's Note:**

> Who was Jon meeting?


End file.
